The dull point of Xavier’s rapier poked Edward in the stomach; if not for the fact he couldn't bruise anymore, it would have long ago purpled. Training wasn't going well, but work was worse. He'd been stuck on the same problem for weeks, and it had been nearly that long since he'd last fed. Xavier hit him, again, in the exact same spot.

After resetting, again, Edward lunged and Xavier's rapier flashed in the dim light of the training hall. Metal rang as Edward's rapier was ripped from his weak grip; hand tingling from the impact. The singing metal transmuted humiliation and frustration into rage.

Xavier: "Patience, Master Heinrich."
Edward: "Fuck off." Xavier's eyes widened with indignity. Edward reached for his blade.
Xavier: "No need, Master Heinrich. We are finished."
Edward: "Fine by me." He stood up, leaving the blade behind, and stormed out.

The fallout was not long coming, consequences were swift in Coventry Manor. Three hours later, the door of Edward's study flew open and he jumped to his feet, spinning to see the Kindred of the house — his Sire, Fulke Coventry — in the doorway. Fear gripped Edward and his Beast alike.

Edward: "Sir Fulke." His voice shook, he wasn't sure what scared him most: The limp boy in his Sire's left hand, the spear in his right, or the mask of rage etched into the face of the ancient Daeva.

Fulke stepped into the room and dropped the body. Edward did not dare speak, but, even though the fear he could feel the bone-deep hunger. His fangs lowered behind closed lips. Sire and Childe stood facing each other. A minute passed, Edward holding out against the Beast.

Fulke flipped the spear point with the ease of the impossibly strong and scratched the boy's neck. A single drop of blood decided the conflict between Man and Beast.

Edward fell onto the boy, biting into his neck with feral urgency, drinking deep. Fulke waited just over a minute before staking Edward.

When Edward came to, he could process nothing but the pain. A scream emerged as a rattling wheeze, air flowing through his destroyed chest as he spasmed on the bloody carpet.

Fulke: "Heal yourself," and Edward did: new blood burning. As the pain receded a horrible thought hit him: he had drunk far too much.
Fulke: "The boy will live." Fulke knew him well. A pause for Edward’s chest to reknit.
Fulke: "You will never neglect your feeding."
Edward: "Yes, Sir."
Fulke: "You will never insult a member of my staff."
Edward: "Yes, Sir."

Fulke left, and Edward stared at the ceiling, holding back sobs.